


Moving On

by S_G_M



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Death, F/M, Falling In Love, Hate Crimes, Love, Marriage, Mollstrade, Murder, Sex, Widowed, molly/lestrade - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 13:37:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2070225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_G_M/pseuds/S_G_M
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After six years of being a widow, Greg Lestrade has decided that it's time to give away most of his late wife's things, and to move on just a bit.<br/>It isn't long afterward that he finds himself going out with Molly Hooper.</p><p>Will his past hold him back, or will he find himself able to love again?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving On

It had been weeks since Greg Lestrade had taken a day off, and he had made plans to get rid of some things around the flat.

It was a good thing that John had offered to come and help, considering that most of the items that needed to go had belonged to Greg’s late wife.

Six years had passed since Crystal had succumbed to the brain cancer that had swiftly destroyed her, and Greg had found himself unable to let go.

All of her things were as she had left them, Greg taking great care to leave those items exactly as they had been.

Her jewellery box, her fragrances and make-up, her green lava lamp, still sat on the bureau in the bedroom.

Her collection of maneki nekos remained displayed on the shelving that Greg had made and put up especially for them.

Even her shoes near the door were still there in their rightful place.

Greg simply couldn’t bear to touch any of these things for the first while. 

It was difficult to simply look at them sometimes, even yet, but if they hadn’t been there at all…

Lately, Greg had begun feeling as though perhaps it was time to give most of these possessions up.

When he’d first begun feeling this way, the guilt nearly overwhelmed him.

He’d even become angry with himself for such a thought crossing his mind.

But, Greg knew that it wasn’t as though he was putting Crystal’s memory to the back of his mind and forgetting about her.

And, besides, there were plenty of people out there in need who would actually use the items.

 

Greg glanced at the iron wrought clock on the mantelpiece; John should be over any time now.

While he did want to get things taken care of, he wasn’t really looking forward to it.

This was going to be a very difficult day, and he wasn’t even fully certain that he could manage it.

Greg had been through such a lot in his life so far, but losing Crystal and coping with what followed afterwards were the worst things he’d experienced by far.

Perhaps if he’d been able to bring himself to talk to someone about it, things might not have been quite so tough.

Greg wondered if after he’d gotten used to the absence of Crystal’s things, if he might someday be able to try dating again.

Not that he felt convinced about the notion of finding another woman to love.

He knew that he would never be able to love another human being as he’d loved Crystal so completely.

But, it might be nice to at least try for some sort of romance.

Greg wasn’t sure if he was quite ready for that, but maybe it was something to think about.

 

 

John Watson arrived twenty minutes later, a six pack of beer in hand.

“Thought you might want a couple by the time we’re through.”  John explained kindly, taking off his shoes and passing the cans to Greg, who thanked him before placing them in the refrigerator.

“So, where’d you want to start?”  John asked, looking around.

There would be a lot of stuff to go…  It was a good thing John knew a young lady with a truck who worked for a local charity organisation.

Greg gave a stressed laugh.  “I have no idea.”  He admitted.  “I suppose the bedroom’s going to be the hardest for me, maybe I should get that done first.”

John nodded sympathetically.  “Sure, sounds good.”  He replied.  “Just remember that if you need to do this bits at a time, I can always come back to help.”

Greg gave a small smile.  “Thanks.  You’re a good friend, John.”  He stated genuinely, clapping him on the shoulder.  “I really appreciate this.”

“It’s the least I can do.”  John said honestly, following Greg into the master bedroom.

 

 

It had taken a bit of coaxing from John before Greg could bring himself just to touch any of Crystal’s belongings.

Greg fairly winced as he took a grey silk dress from the open closet, removing it from the hanger and ever so gently folding it, before placing it carefully into one of the numerous cardboard boxes that he’d brought in the night before.

Greg let out a deep sigh, before turning back to the closet to bring out another outfit.

As he looked it over, he remembered the last time he’d seen his late wife wear it.

It had been on the vacation that they’d taken in Italy back in 1994, and Crystal had looked absolutely stunning in it.

Greg felt a lump in his throat.

Maybe this had been a mistake.

“Are you all right?”  John asked softly, watching him carefully.

Greg blinked away tears.  “Er… I, uh, I don’t know.”  He admitted, holding the mini-dress and looking helpless.

He’d known that this wouldn’t be easy, but this was incredibly difficult.

John offered to take care of the clothes for him, but Greg declined politely.

“No, I… I need to do this.”  He said, trying to muster some strength.

He folded the mini-dress, and put it in the box.

Greg somehow managed to get through the entire closet, though he felt sick to his stomach by the end of it.

“How about a break?”  John suggested, thinking that Greg could use a cup of tea to help soothe him.

Greg agreed.

 

 

After the tea, they went back to the bedroom, and John helped Greg clear out half of the bureau, the shelving, and the various knick knacks around the room.

The entire time, John was very supportive.

He was even able to get Greg to talk about Crystal; Greg’s face lit up as he did, recalling everything about her in perfect detail.

John could see the pain on Greg’s face as he spoke, but it was mixed with happiness as well.

As they continued working in the den, Greg went on about Crystal, sharing more than he’d ever intended.

But, he didn’t regret it.  It was wonderful to be able to talk to someone about the love of his life, the woman who still held his heart captive.

John thought that Crystal seemed to have been a remarkable woman.  It was easy to see why Greg had fallen for her.

From the photographs that were around the flat, and from what he’d heard from Greg, Crystal was a thoroughly beautiful woman, inside and out.

She had been an outspoken, free-spirited lady with a heart of gold.  She had suffered from depression and anxiety, and life with her hadn’t always been easy.

But, it had always been worth staying by her side.

Crystal had adored children and animals, and had taken pride in her job as a metalworker.

Greg had thought that she could do just about anything and it would turn out well, except when it had come to cooking.

No matter how hard she’d tried, Crystal never had been any good as a chef.

Not even small things like soup came out edible.

 

Soon enough, most of her things in the flat had been boxed up.

Greg had chosen to keep a few things; the clock that Crystal had created, her wedding ring, and a few odds and ends that he just couldn’t part with.

Once it was done, Greg walked through the flat, looking about sadly, feeling a touch lost.

So much was boxed up.

John went to the fridge and brought over a beer, which Greg gratefully took and opened.

“You’re sure about this?”  John asked with a hint of concern.  “Once I call to have this picked up, it’s gone forever.”

Greg blinked, a momentary panic flashing through him.

He took a swig of the beer, feeling the cold liquid slip down his throat.

“Yeah.”  Greg answered.  “Yeah, I think so.”

John took out his mobile, and dialled, giving him a ‘You’re sure?’ look as he waited for someone to pick up.

Greg nodded, as someone answered on the other end.

“Ay up, John!”  A young woman said cheerily.  “Need me to come pick that stuff up now?” 

“That would be great, Lucy.”  He replied, giving her the address.

“Right, then.  I’ve just got to finish running an errand and I’ll be right over.”  She told him, her voice like sunshine, ponies, and kittens.

“Okay, see you then.”  He told her, before hanging up.

 

As they waited for Lucy to show up, they began to discuss the book that Sherlock was currently writing.

“Yeah, he’s about half done writing it.”  John told him.  “I never realised that anyone could write that much about ash…  The thing’s over 250 pages long already.”

Greg gave a chuckle, taking a sip of his beer and beginning to feel hunger pangs.

“Well, he _is_ up to 251 types of ash, now, after all.”  Greg reminded John in mild amusement.

John snorted.

“And, don’t I know it?”  He said with a shake of his head.  “I’ve had to hear about it in detail with each new discovery.”

John finished his beer, setting the empty can on the coffee table.

“Hey, are you getting hungry at all?  We could ring for a pizza, if you’re in the mood for some.”  Greg asked, his stomach grumbling.

John was feeling a bit peckish.  “Sure, I’ll chip in.”  He answered, as there came a knock at the door.

Greg stood up.  “Okay, you order.  As long as there’s pepperoni, I don’t care what else is on it.”  He told John, as he headed to answer to door.

 

A short brunette girl with long wavy hair and the grin of a cherubim looked up at him.  “I’m Lucy!”  She practically trilled.  “John told me that you needed some things picked up.

“Um, yeah, I do…”  He said, though he doubted that she’d be able to manage all of the heavy boxes on her own.

She must have read his thoughts on his face, because she gave a little shrug.  “I’ve got a big hulk of a guy coming up to help me right away, don’t worry.”  She chirped sweetly.

She noticed John in the den, and waved at him as he sat on hold.

He waved back, and Lucy jumped as her friend stealthily crept up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder.

She let out a piercing shriek, before apologising profusely to Greg.

The boxes were piled in the hallway along the wall, and the duo began hauling them away steadily.

It had taken them a while, but soon enough they finished the job.

When Greg had offered to pay them, they refused any money.

“Don’t worry about it, I owed John a huge favour.  I’m repaying that by doing this for free.”  Lucy assured him.

“If you’re sure.”  He said uncomfortably.  “Won’t you both come in and have something to drink, at least?”

Lucy bit her lip.

“I’m actually in a bit of a hurry, love…  If you’ve got any bottled water, we’ll take one each, s’long as that’s all right.”  She said, feeling bad for being rude.

Greg went to the kitchen for the water, and gave them each a bottle.

They thanked him and left.

 

 

Soon after that, the pizza arrived, and they enjoyed their meal as they watched an episode of Doctor Who.

“It’s nice to be able to watch this without constantly hearing how preposterous it is.”  John said in a grateful tone.

Greg imagined that it must be difficult to watch anything other than documentaries and the like with Sherlock, the way his mind worked.

The one time that Greg had offered to watch anything with Sherlock, it had been a DVD that he hadn’t watched before, and Sherlock had told him practically everything about the film from the picture on the front alone and then declined.

When Greg had watched it later on, Sherlock had turned out to be right about everything.  As usual.

“You know, my cousin works as a cameraman on the Doctor Who set.”  Greg told him thoughtfully.  “If you wanted, I might be able to get him to let you see the set or something.  No guarantee that you’d see any of the actors, but since you’re a fan, maybe you’d be interested.”

John raised an eyebrow.  “Seriously?”  He asked, knowing that Greg wouldn’t lie to him.

Greg smiled.  “Yes, Joe’s been working for the BBC as a cameraman for nearly twenty years now.  He’s been a part of the Who crew nearly his whole career with them.”  He went on, happy to have a distraction from the half-empty apartment.

“Well, that would be something to see.  I’ve been a fan since I was a teen.”  John said, thinking that it would be pretty awesome to be able to visit the set.

“Right, well, I’ll see what I can do to set that up for you.”  Greg told him, taking another slice of pizza.

 

 

After the episode was over, and the food and drink had been consumed, John left to go home.

Once Greg had locked the door, he looked around his flat again, sighing deeply.

It just felt cold now.

He began to feel deep guilt for what he’d done, and wondered if Crystal knew that her things were no longer where they had been; wondered if it would have upset her to know that he was trying to move on just a little.

 

Greg went and laid down on the bed, reminiscing for quite some time before drifting into a troubled sleep.

 

He awoke early the next morning, had a quick breakfast of cold cereal, before getting dressed and heading to the station.

It was a slow morning, though that afternoon a bizarre case had landed in his department’s collective lap.

Twelve skinned bodies dangled from the streetlamps only a few blocks away.

Each of them had a single letter typed on parchment paper tied so tightly around the left ankle that the hemp rope cut well into the muscles.

Greg arrived on the scene to find his team working to get the bodies down.

It was an off-putting scene; twelve skinned bodies glistening from the street lamps in the hot afternoon sun.

A bit of a crowd had gathered to stare at the spectacle before them, watching from the police barriers.

After each corpse had been taken down, the pieces of paper had been carefully removed and bagged individually.

The letters came together to make a single word; annihilation.

 

There didn’t seem to be very much evidence at all, after the tests were run and all of the evidence available had been taken into consideration.

Molly was scouring the bodies for any sort of information that could be useful.  Anything from identification to evidence that had been missed by an untrained eye.

“Busy day so far?”  Molly asked him politely.

Greg shrugged.  “Nah, not really.”  He answered.  “This is the first real thing that’s come up so far.  You?”

Molly leaned over the corpse in front of her, taking her tweezers to remove some sort of debris from a bicep.

“Oh, same as always.”  She replied nonchalantly, placing the debris on a microscope slide and taking a peek at it. 

It turned out to be a speck of asphalt.

“Though, I’ve got this evening off, maybe it’ll turn out to be something to look forward to.”  She hinted, hoping that Greg would pick up on it.

“That’d be nice for you.”  Greg said, before asking her if she thought there was anything out of the ordinary about the bodies.

Molly blinked.  “Well, not really.”  She answered, thinking about it.  “They all share the same cause of death; blood loss and shock.”

“So, they died from being skinned alive, is what you’re saying?”  Greg asked, a little disgusted.

He’d seen plenty of gruesome things in his career, but it never failed to make his stomach churn just a little whenever he learned that the victim had experienced such a torturous death.

“Exactly.”  Molly told him matter-of-factly.  “And, they were all killed last night, around eleven o’clock, I’d say.   I’ll need to run some more tests to give you anything more precise than that.”

Greg nodded grimly, crossing his arms.

 

 

After exiting the hospital for a quick fag, Greg called Sherlock and tried to interest him in the case at hand.

It didn’t take too much to interest him after explaining the manner in which the bodies had been found, and before long both John and Sherlock arrived at the morgue where Greg and Molly were waiting for them.

Sherlock examined each corpse, asking the odd question as he went along.

“Annihilation.”  Sherlock said musingly, taking every scrap of information in.  “The corpses have been dealt with in such a way that identifying them solely on the bodies is fairly impossible…  The killer is trying to send a message, what is it?” Sherlock looked around the room, posing the question to them all.

John shrugged.  “Er, maybe these people were all a part of a certain group or business that was being targeted.”  He tried uncertainly.

“Plausible, but no.”  Sherlock looked over to Greg.

“Gang wars?”  Greg suggested, the amount of gang violence having been on the rise.

“Mmmm, nope.”  Sherlock replied certainly, before waiting for Molly to say something.

She took her time, looking over each corpse once more before making a realisation.

“Yes, exactly.”  Sherlock told her, pleased that she saw what he did.

Greg perked up at this.

“What is it?”  He asked curiously, looking between Sherlock and Molly.

Sherlock nodded at Molly, who began explaining.

“Their facial structures all show distinct patterns.  Each of these people had strong Jewish heritage.”  Molly told them, going on to explain what features tipped her off.

“So, we’ve got some lunatic anti-Semite on the loose, then.”  John said, frowning in distaste.

Greg made a few notes on his pad of paper.  “What else can you give me?”  He asked, hoping there was more to go on.

“Nothing, for the moment.”  Sherlock responded, his mind working over what he currently knew about the case and what steps were to be taken next.

Greg put the pad away in his jacket pocket.

“Right, well, I’ve got to get going.  Keep me posted, all right?”  He looked directly at Sherlock.

Too many times Sherlock had neglected to keep him informed, and Greg hadn’t appreciated it.

He said good-bye, and left the room, heading down the hallway.

 

Molly bit her lip.

“Go on.”  Sherlock told her, his voice tinged with annoyance. 

Molly frowned.

Sherlock cocked his head, giving her a look.

“I can’t.”  She half-whined, her cheeks turning pink.

“You can; do it.”  Sherlock tried to encourage her.

John frowned.  “Uh, Sherlock…”  He interjected, as Molly plucked up her courage and chased after Greg.

“What, John?”  He asked, brows raised.

“Are you sure that’s such a good idea?  Greg’s still getting over his late wife, and only got rid of her things yesterday.”  John pointed out, feeling bad for Greg. 

“It’s a fine idea.  Greg has always been sexually attracted to Molly, despite the fact that he’s ignored said attraction due to feelings of guilt.  He wants to move on; Molly can help him with that.”  Sherlock stated honestly.  “It’s not as though she’s asking him to marry her, but on a simple date.”

John didn’t look entirely convinced.

“I’m not sure he’s going to see it that way.”  John said with a shake of his head.

 

 

As Molly rushed down the hallway, she tripped over her own feet, causing a few people to turn and stare.

Greg heard the noise and looked back, spying a dishevelled Molly on the floor.

He dashed over, helping her to her feet.

Molly was completely red in the face.  “Thanks.”  She mumbled, feeling like a complete arse.

She stood up straight, and as she did, she felt a shooting pain in her ankle.

Molly let out a groan of pain, and stumbled forward.

Greg caught her, keeping her steady.  “Your ankle?”  He asked, as she looked into his brown eyes.

She nodded.

“Can you walk?”  He asked, a little worried.

“I’ll try.”  She said, moving away from him and taking a couple of steps.

Molly whimpered and fell against the wall.

Greg went over to her, picking her up.

“Let’s get you sitting down.”  He told her, carrying her over to an empty wheelchair, which was the nearest thing he could set her down on.

Molly had rather enjoyed being carried like that, being held in his strong arms.

His cologne was light, but spicy, and he smelled ever so slightly of cigarettes.

“Thank-you.”  She told him, feeling warm.

“Not at all.”  He told her, noticing how she was looking at him.

He’d seen that look on her face countless times, but it hadn’t quite registered.

“Molly…”  Greg began, before faltering.

He wanted to tell her that he was flattered, and while he didn’t want to hurt her feelings, that he would feel better if they remained friends.

He wasn’t really certain what he ought to say.

It had been a very, very long time since he’d found himself in such a situation.

Greg tended not to notice when someone was interested in him, and so he was very much out of practice.

“Yes?”  She asked tentatively, trying not to seem overly interested, not wanting to send the wrong message.

Greg cleared his throat.  “Do you… Well, I mean…”  He tried again, looking incredibly awkward.

“Want to have dinner?”  Molly finished for him hopefully, peering up at him.

Greg opened his mouth soundlessly.

“Oh…”  He said uncertainly. 

He hadn’t expected this at all when he’d come down to the morgue, and he wasn’t that comfortable with the idea of a date.

But then, perhaps that was precisely what he needed.

Molly was looking a touch disappointed.

“Yes, would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”  Greg asked with a hint of meekness.

Molly beamed.  “I’d love to!”  She told him happily, forgetting completely about her ankle.

Greg grinned.   “Say, around 18:30 at Mia Bello?”  He suggested, trying to not to focus on his second thoughts.

Molly thought that sounded great.  “It’s a date.”  She agreed.

“I’ll see you then…  But, I’ve really got to get going.”  Greg told her half-apologetically.

“Of course, see you later.”  Molly said, and he turned and continued out of the hospital.

 

 

Molly used the chair to get back to the morgue, but knew that she wouldn’t be able to finish her shift without standing, so she did her best to walk.

The pain was terrible, and after looking at it, she knew that it was badly twisted.

“What happened?”  John asked in concern, going over to her and assisting her to the table.

“I had a bit of an accident…”  She said vaguely, her embarrassment creeping up once more.

Sherlock looked over to her.  “You should be resting that ankle.”  He told her, noting the way she was holding herself.

“I can’t.”  Molly said, shaking her head.  “I was the only one available to work this shift; I don’t have time to rest.”

John offered to stay and try to help.

Molly thanked him.

“I’ll be just fine, John.  It’s only a twisted ankle.”  She replied.

Sherlock figured that there was a chance that someone in his underground network would know something about the murders, and suggested to John that they begin heading to find a certain member.

But, before they left, Sherlock took a few moments alone with Molly to have a brief exchange with her.

“White gardenia perfume, powder blue outfit, and red lipstick.”  Sherlock advised, taking into account what flattered her and what would most likely have a positive effect on Greg.  “And, be direct.  You too often question yourself and it’s obvious.  Go with your instincts.”

Molly nodded.  “I’ll try.”  She told him.

“Good.”  Sherlock told her, meaning it.

Molly had become a close friend to Sherlock, and he really did want her to be happy.

She and Greg would make a formidable couple, and Sherlock thought it was about time that they decided to go out together.

He felt certain that after just a single date, that they would also see how well they complimented one another.

 

 

A few hours later, after finishing their shifts, Greg and Molly began getting ready for their date.

Molly primped, and tried on a number of outfits, before remembering Sherlock’s advice.

She did have a stylish powder blue pantsuit in her closet.

She’d bought it ages ago, but had never found the occasion to wear it.

Molly settled on that, curled her soft brown hair, and put on a bit of make-up, before she was ready to go.

 

Greg, on the other hand, took far longer before he was prepared.

He tried on outfit after outfit, tried styling his hair different ways, immaculately trimmed his hairline, combed his eyebrows, and even went so far as to try applying some bronzer. (he’d heard that men used it, too, and so thought he’d give it a go for the date)

After looking in the mirror, he felt absolutely ridiculous.

He didn’t even know why he was going so far to try and impress her, anyway.

In the end, he decided to have a quick shower to get the gel out of his hair and the bronzer off of his face, and pulled on a simple suit.

 

 

 

Greg was a touch ahead of schedule, so he chose to stop by a flower shoppe, picking out a simple red rose for Molly.

Once he arrived at the restaurant, he was exactly on time, and Molly was waiting at the table he’d reserved for them.

He gave her the rose, which made her positively beam.

They had been surprised to find that the full meal, including dessert and wine, had been chosen for them.

“Did you…?”  Molly questioned.

“No, I thought you had arranged it.”  Greg said, a little confused.

With that, they both realised who it must have been.

“Unbelievable.”  Greg mumbled.

“I guess we’ve got a shipper.”  Molly laughed.

“A _what_?”  Greg asked, unsure if he’d heard her correctly.

“A shipper.”   Molly repeated herself.  “Um, it means someone that wants to see a certain two, sometimes more, people in a romantic relationship.”

“Oh…  Okay.”  Greg said slowly.

“It’s more of an internet thing, I suppose.”  She shrugged.

“We must be browsing different parts of the web, then.”  Greg said in a friendly tone.  “Speaking of the internet, I’ve heard you have a blog.  How’s that going?” 

“Pretty well, thanks.  I’d stopped writing it for a while, but I’ve started up again.”  She answered.  “I’d switched over to Tumblr for a while.”

Just as Greg was about to say something in return, their meals arrived at the table.

After the waiter had left, Greg complimented her on her outfit.

“You look lovely tonight, Molly.”  He said meaningfully.

The pantsuit really did look wonderful on her, and powder blue was his favourite colour.

Molly blushed deeply.  “Thank-you.  You look great, too.”  She responded a little shyly.

Greg smiled a bit, thinking that now that he was actually paying attention, she really was adorable.

Molly smiled back, before tucking into her dinner.

 

 

After eating, Greg had originally planned to just go back home and head to bed after reading a bit.

However, he found himself wanting to spend more time with Molly.

In fact, he found himself craving her; wanting to touch her, to taste her, to drink in her scent.

Greg couldn’t believe how he was feeling; half of him felt ashamed, and the other half felt wild and frisky.

They took a walk along the streets, passing a cinema.

“Would you like to see a film?”  Greg asked her.

Molly shook her head ‘no’.  “Not really, do you?”  She asked, walking closer to him.

Greg cleared his throat as he tried to keep his thoughts clean.

“Nah, there’s not anything good playing, anyways.”  He answered.

Molly vainly attempted to keep from limping as she walked.

Greg noticed her limp, and offered to drive her home.

As much as she wanted to keep spending time with Greg, she took him up on the offer.

It wasn’t as though there was very much that she could do with such a badly twisted ankle.

“My car is nearly four blocks away.”  Greg told her apologetically.  “I’d rather not leave you hear on your own on a Friday night.  Not because you’re a woman, but because you’re injured and it _is_ a Friday night, after all.”

Molly didn’t really want to be left alone, either.

“I don’t think I can walk that far…”  She admitted, biting her lip and feeling bad.

Greg didn’t think twice before preparing to swoop her up into his arms.

“May I?”  He asked in the most gentlemanly tone he could muster, making her giggle.

“Please do.”  Molly said back in the snootiest upper-crust tone she could, making him grin as he picked her up.

 

 

He carried her easily to the car, trying not to jostle her too much.

Greg set her down gingerly by his 1971 Plymouth Hemi Cuda Convertible, unlocking the door and opening it for her.

“Thank-you.”  Molly told him, getting into the car.

Greg closed the door behind her, before getting into the driver’s seat.

“Right, if you’ll just give me the address.”  Greg prompted gently.

“Oh, yes, I guess you would need that.”  She said jokingly, before telling him.

Greg started the car, and began driving her home, trying to focus on the road.

 

 

It didn’t take very long to arrive at Molly’s house, which was small but quite lovely.

Greg got out of the car, and opened the door for her, helping her out of the vehicle.

“I’ll help you in, if you like.”  Greg offered, not wanting to seem threatening in any way.

With all of the accusations he’d been hearing hurled at men lately, he wanted to be certain not to do anything that could be viewed in the wrong light.

Molly looked at him with stars in her eyes.

“That would be nice, thank-you.”  She told him softly, wanting him close to her.

Greg was so comfortable to be around.

She trusted him, and had fallen steadily in love with him long ago.

Tonight had been a dream come true for her.

Greg put an arm around her, keeping her steady as they slowly walked up the front path.

When they had reached the door, there was a moment of awkward silence.

“Would you…  Like to come in for a cuppa before you go?”  Molly offered, hoping to entice him to stay just a bit longer.

Greg considered this.

“Yeah, thanks.  I’m just going to turn the engine off first.”  Greg said, pointing at the car, before dashing off and doing just that.

Molly grinned at his enthusiasm.

When he’d returned, she began to lead him into the kitchen when she stopped and leaned against the wall.

“What is it?”  Greg asked, frowning.

Had her ankle begun hurting even worse, or was something else the matter?

Molly leaned in, getting onto her toes, kissing him suddenly.

Greg was shocked, and at first he had gone to pull away, but found himself relenting easily.

He kissed her back, his hands pulling her in closer of their own volition.

His brain fairly shut off, as their mouths clashed fervently, their bodies starving for more.

Molly unbuttoned his shirt, and her hands began exploring his naked chest, feeling just a skift of hair.

Greg pulled away for a moment, his breathing ragged as he looked down at her.

Molly’s face was flushed, her lipstick smeared onto her right cheek, and her eyes were shining in excitement.

It had been such a long time since he’d seen a woman like that.

He thought of Crystal, and thought that maybe he ought to stop.

“Have I done something wrong?”  Molly asked, sounding stressed.

Greg told her that she hadn’t.

He reasoned that Crystal would have wanted him to be happy, to not be lonely.

Maybe this was as right as it felt.

Greg leaned back in, and Molly sat him on the stairs, sitting in his lap against his now straining erection.

She could feel it against her bottom, and she moved so that she could free the rigid beast, watching as it sprang out like a cobra.

Molly had never been this bold with any man before, but she needed him so badly that it hurt.

She stood up, pulling her clothes off without a care in the world, and sat back down on his lap, guiding him inside her dripping wet pussy.

Greg groaned, the tight heat sending little waves of pleasure through him as she began moving slowly.

She made a few soft moans, as she manoeuvred her hips so that his cock hit her g-spot.

But, as she began to move with more force, Greg’s spine began hitting the edge of the stair behind him painfully.

“Wait…”  Greg said breathily, not wanting her to stop but knowing that if she didn’t that he’d end up with a bruised back and maybe even a few splinters as a result.  “Can we move somewhere a little more comfortable?”

Molly stood up, letting him slip out with a slick sound.

“Upstairs, first room on the left.”  She told him huskily, trying to manage the stairs on her own.

Greg noticed how difficult it was, despite the bannister, and carried her up into the bedroom, placing her on the double bed.

He got on, leaning over her and taking a pert nipple into his mouth, massaging her breasts.

Molly bit her lip, closing her eyes as she felt the sensations go straight to her clitoris.

She moved a hand down to the throbbing nub, circling it with two fingers.

She began to moan, as Greg trailed his fingers over her entire body, paying particular attention to what she seemed to enjoy and what she didn’t, being careful to focus on the most sensitive areas.

As Molly brought herself to orgasm, Greg kissed her mouth as she moaned softly.

Those sounds were almost enough on their own to send him over the edge.

Molly panted into his mouth, before kissing him back.

Without a word, she shoved him to the bed and climbed on top of him, taking his full length inside of her.

She made another soft sound, as she began moving.

Greg’s hands made their way to her hips, as they bucked rhythmically, her breasts bouncing hypnotically.

Greg moved his hips in time, and they moved together as though they had done this a thousand times before.

As he began to feel his bollocks tighten, he could hear Molly’s moans begin to grow louder, could feel the early convulsions inside her that signalled the beginnings of her orgasm.

Waves of incredible pleasure washed over them both, bathing them in powerful waves of sensation.

As the delicious experience began to ebb, Molly leaned down and kissed him again, sliding off of him and landing softly onto the mattress.

She cuddled up to him, their sweat drenched bodies beginning to become weary.

Greg put an arm around her, kissing the top of her head as she nuzzled into him.

He was still surprised that someone so sweet and laid back could be so dominant when it came to sex.

 

 

In the morning, they each took a quick shower.

Molly had the day off, though Greg had to go to work.

She made them breakfast, and though the conversation was awkward at first, they soon began talking easily.

Greg almost felt at home with her, and Molly thoroughly enjoyed being with him.

Greg’s shift began soon, and he had to be going.

“I’d like to see you again after work, if you’re free.”  Greg told her earnestly.

Molly told him that she wanted to see him again, too, and that he ought to come by for dinner.

Greg smiled in relief.

“Same time?”  He asked, and Molly nodded.

“It’s a date.”  She told him with a smile.

 

 

Throughout his entire shift, he couldn’t stop thinking about Molly.

Fortunately, it didn’t affect the quality of his work too much, and only Anderson seemed to notice that something was different about him.

“You got laid.”  Anderson said with a knowing grin, punching him in the arm jovially as he stood by the water cooler having a drink.

Greg cleared his throat, ignoring the remark.

“Your silence only proves that I’m right.”  He said confidently.

Greg gave him a stern look.

“I am your superior and you will treat me as such.  Kindly refrain from making such inappropriate comments in the future while on shift.”  Greg told him, before walking to his office, leaving Anderson smirking.

 

Sherlock had somehow been able to collar the killer and her 16 accomplices that day, less than 36 hours after the murders had taken place.

Greg was impressed.  Even for Sherlock, this was good.

“Well done, boys.”  Greg told John and Sherlock. 

Sherlock looked at him closely, obviously reading everything about the previous night, but keeping it to himself.

“Yeah, it’s just too bad that we couldn’t help id the victims.”  John said, hating that there were families out there who had no idea that their missing loved ones were never coming back home.

Greg nodded.  “The department’s doing all it can, which just isn’t enough sometimes, unfortunately.”  He replied, agreeing with John.

John took Greg aside.

“How are you holding up?”  John asked, seeing that Greg looked even more worn out than ever.

“Okay, actually.”  Greg told him with a shrug. 

John was silent for a moment.

“Right, okay, good.”  He said, not entirely convinced. 

“Seriously, John.  I think I’m going to be fine.”  Greg reassured him.  “Better than fine, actually.  I think that things are finally looking up.”

John gave him a small smile.

“I’m glad to hear it.”  He said, hoping that Greg was being completely honest.

He always said that he was fine, even when John knew that he wasn’t okay at all.

Sherlock wandered over.

“Well, that’s one white supremacist group disassembled.”  Sherlock remarked, reaching into his pocket.

He pulled out a necklace.

“It had come undone and fallen to the floor without Molly noticing yesterday, would you give it to her for me?”  Sherlock asked him quietly.

Greg blinked, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

“Right, sure, I can do that.”  He said, taking the jewellery and slipping it into a pocket.

“Good.”  Sherlock replied.

Sherlock gave him a small smile, before leaving with John.

 

 

The rest of his shift went by quickly enough, and he made it home in time to have a quick shower and change into fresh clothes, before driving over to Molly’s.

When he rang the doorbell, he heard her tell him to come in.

He opened the door, and smelled roast chicken.

Greg found Molly in the kitchen, hobbling about, putting the finishing touches on dinner.

She had worked hard on making homemade hash-browns, lemon pepper chicken, and treacle tart for dessert.

Molly had even picked fresh broccoli from her backyard garden for the meal.

 

“Hello.”  She greeted him, smiling widely.

“Hi.”  He said back, thinking how beautiful she looked, even though she was only wearing a pair of old jeans and a ratty t-shirt.

“I didn’t have time to change before you arrived…”  Molly told him, noticing that he was looking at her clothes.

“You look fine.”  Greg told her.  “Honest.”

Molly blushed.  “You’re sweet.”  She told him, as she dished up two plates and set them on the candle-lit table in the dining room.

He wasn’t sure what to say to this.

Greg took the necklace that Sherlock had given him earlier out of his pocket and passed it to her, explaining how it came to be in his possession.

Molly thanked him happily, putting it on immediately.  “My grandmother gave me this when I was a little girl.  I thought that I’d lost it.”  She told him, before they sat down at the table.

 

 

As they ate, there wasn’t very much talk as they looked into one another’s eyes, completely smitten.

Greg had fallen for her like a stone in water.

It felt different than when he had fallen in love with Crystal, but it still felt intoxicating.

 

After dinner, they laid down together on the bed for a little while, just talking and enjoying the closeness of one another.

It was nearly an hour and a half, before the sexual tension got the better of them and they made love in a frenzied passion.

They did this twice more, before falling into a deep slumber.

 

 

Over the next few weeks, Molly and Greg came to know one another much better.

Their bond grew more profound, and within six months, they were engaged to be married.

Sherlock considered himself responsible for the pairing, and felt a certain amount of pride that Molly and Greg were to become man and wife.

 

The wedding was a wonderful affair, and many people attended.

John had been his best man, and two of Molly’s childhood friends had been her bridesmaids.

When they had exchanged their vows, nearly everyone shed a few tears.

Greg and Molly Lestrade walked down the aisle together and out of the church to see fifty white doves, and countless butterflies, released and fly up into the sky in a majestic display.

 

It was such a happy occasion, and the wedding couldn’t have gone smoother.

The happy couple left the party early to begin their honeymoon in Australia, sneaking out only to be noticed by a small handful of people who wished them well.

 

 

The honeymoon suite was perfect, and though the amenities were plentiful, they didn’t leave their room for nearly a week.

“And to think, if I hadn’t twisted my ankle that day, we might not be here now.”  Molly murmered contentedly, completely satiated in every way.  “If you hadn’t turned back to help me up, I don’t think I would have ever said anything.”

Greg smiled, remembering that day.

“And, I probably would never have noticed how I felt about you, either.”  He admitted, holding her close.  “I love you so much, Molly.”

Molly closed her eyes.  “I love you, too.”  She told him, nuzzling against his skin.

 

And they lived happily ever after.


End file.
